


What is Victory?

by madridistagoblue



Series: Seirin Week 2015 [3]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4352234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madridistagoblue/pseuds/madridistagoblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You must answer him no. You do not know victory. But you know what victory is not. And that's a start. Someday you will understand."</p>
            </blockquote>





	What is Victory?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 3 of Seirin Week 2015 on Tumblr. The prompt for Day 3 was Victory/Loss.

What is victory?

It is not this emptiness: the silence which crowds the space once occupied by kind words and laughter; the emptiness in dark blue eyes that once seemed to hold an eternity of determined dreams; the space between your outstretched arm and his in the distance.

It is not a pair of heterochromatic eyes, red and golden-orange, so unfamiliar on a face you've seen countless times before. He addresses you with a newfound familiarity, but the words he speaks have never sounded so distant.

It is not the guilt you feel for having lied as you turn and walk away, pretending that the cries you hear behind you are not hers. Perhaps, if you say nothing, she can continue to believe in things that you had long since lost faith in, like friendships and promises of forever.

What is victory?

It is not the empty frame of a boy you once called your friend. His eyes are lifeless, fixed forever on a row of 1s, the proof of your team's vanity. It is not the arrogance of gods or the fall of mortals.

It is not inherently righteous, as you were once led to believe.

What is victory?

It is not this resentment you feel towards a pastime you know you once loved, or your fear that it caused all of your current pain. (Though, really, you know that isn't the case. You were the cause of it all. Basketball is a convenient excuse, keeping you from claiming responsibility for your own actions.)

What is victory?

You do not know.

At one point, you think you may never know, but the wristband around your arm reminds you that it's worth seeking the answer. He believed in you, even if you cannot believe in yourself.

Your captain knows not defeat, but you are certain he knows loss. That is what this is, after all: your unceremonious parting, not a single goodbye spoken between the six of you. He claims to know victory -- intimately, even -- like it is the thing which sustains his very breath. But you aren't sure he does, not when he asks you: "have you found your answer?" It's the thing he asked a year and a half ago, when he dangled an opportunity to become the phantom player in front of you and left you to reach it of your own devices. You wonder if that's what he's doing again, asking you to find a way to overcome the odds; though, it seems too much like something his past self would have done and not the person he is now.

You must answer him no. You do not know victory. But you know what victory is not. And that's a start. Someday you will understand.

Someday, you hope to share it with him as well.

What is victory?

Is it a pact made on the sidewalks of Tokyo, under streetlights and over the constant hum of traffic? He looks at you skeptically, perhaps wondering why you offered to help him after he had hurled so many insults at you. But he agrees nonetheless and there's a certain softness in his red eyes that you recognize, though somehow it is new.

Is it your knuckles meeting his face, preventing him from making the same mistake you made?  The mistake which has caused you to ask yourself this one question, every day since the Championship:

What is victory?

He may not know either, but when you ask him the question, his expression softens. He lets go of a portion of that eerily familiar arrogance, and you wonder if you've finally done something right.

What is victory?

It is something which cannot always be achieved, even when you give your all. You make no effort to hold back your tears, but this time, you do not cry alone. You isolate yourself, still afraid you are not strong enough to reach your goals or to face your former captain with an answer prepared.

What is victory?

It is the concern of your teammates, who assure you that they still believe in you. It is the fact that when you tried to disappear, just as you had in the aftermath of your greatest mistake, they wouldn't let you. It is the difference between them and what you had known at Teikou. It is knowing that you will never be left as an individual, because you are part of a team.

It is the sound of knuckles on knuckles, your fist meeting his. For a moment, you see blue hair and tanned skin, but the more times you repeat the action, the more the memory becomes just that: a memory. He becomes not just _a_ light to your shadow, but _the_ light to your shadow. When he places his arms around you, it's as though you become one. He fights for you and you for him. The tears you shed become the lightning in his eyes.

What is victory?

It is refusing to discard the ring he places in your palm, even if it comes with forced words of trust and aspirations for the future. You were never competing for his affection, and you know no contest is worth the loss he will suffer if you follow through with his request. You return it to him, with compassionate but harsh words. You see the look of surprise on his face, but can tell he is pleased with your concern. You think of your old friend, the one who you wronged a year ago, and you wish he would forgive you, the way the two brothers will hopefully forgive each other and begin again.

What is victory?

It is the pride you feel as the ball travels into the net just as the buzzer sounds. It is warm arms entrapping you and the feeling of experiencing something you thought you'd never know. It is the elation brought by surprise and the knowledge that your hard work amounted to something.

It is the courage to finally share the story of your past and to speak aloud the question you have pondered for so long:

What is victory?

It is waiting until you are alone with him to look him in the eyes and speak the truth you now realize: that in him, you have already found your answer.

And because of this, it is the confidence with which you speak when you come face to face with your former captain again. He repeats his question to you: "Have you found your answer?" And this time you reply: "yes."

What is victory?

It is the determination you have to keep fighting, though you are broken down and your teammates have lost the optimism that defines them. It is your refusal to quit before the clock reads 0:00 on the fourth quarter, to defeat your former captain and prove that you have found your answer. It is the same part of you that came back to basketball after you had hated it -- the part of you that believes, even when there's nothing clear to believe in.

It is the moment you see a face in the crowd that you have yearned to see again but are afraid to face. It is the fear you feel, knowing what you did to him. You are not afraid of him but of yourself.

It is the way he calls your name and smiles, and that simple action is your absolution. You feel tears in your eyes as the greatest regret of your life becomes the source of your hope.

What is victory?

It is the way your movements become one, a perfect synchronization, as though everything has entered slow motion. It is the way that colors seem more vivid and passes seem to flow as naturally as your heavy breathing.

It is the way your heart pounds heavily against your chest in the final seconds, more from nerves than from exhaustion, though there is plenty of both. It is your adrenaline keeping your tired legs upright and a million short prayers in quick succession. It is the feel of the ball when it finally lands in your hand, and the pressure of knowing that this is your final chance.

It is the faith that allows you to pass, rather than attempt to shoot. You know he will jam it in -- there is no question in your mind. You know that you have won before you make your move. Because he is your light. Because he is your victory.

What is victory?

It is the way your former captain offers his hand and squeezes it gently against your own, and the generosity of his words, in spite of the fact that he is experiencing pain which he has never known before. It is the understanding you both share, that in this gesture you will set aside the sins of the past.

What is victory?

It is the way his arms wrap around you and you pull your body closer towards him, so that your hearts are pressed together, physically making present what has always spiritually been true on this court. The confetti falls into your hair and your teammates shout so loudly that you can barely make out his words, but he leans in closer and whispers in your ear "you will always be the shadow to my light." It is a promise to continue like this, even though the Winter Cup is over, even though you kept your vow to make him the best in Japan. He wants to continue to fight alongside you -- the one who taught you what victory is.

You return home that night, unable to sleep with your mind still trying to process everything that happened.  Never wanting to forget this moment, you decide to take out a sheet of paper from your drawer, and slowly, in your finest handwriting, you print these words:

_What is Victory?_

_It is trust._

_It is friendship._

_It is love._

 


End file.
